


Debts Owed

by Korvesta_Kaakkoon



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:54:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23132023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Korvesta_Kaakkoon/pseuds/Korvesta_Kaakkoon
Summary: It’s been months since the Lord Regent’s reign had been brought to an end. Empress Emily Kaldwin sits upon the throne, the plague is slowly being driven out of Dunwall, but the Lord Protector’s job is never done. It seems there’s still use for the Masked Felon.Corvo has gained a new shadow. He can see the figure following him from the corner of his eye every time he leaves Dunwall Tower at night. Whatever this person wants, they always stay at just the edge of his Dark Vision.Someone feels like their debts still haven’t been paid back in full.
Relationships: Corvo Attano & Daud, Corvo Attano & Emily Kaldwin
Comments: 34
Kudos: 145





	1. Chapter 1

Corvo had gained a new shadow. 

He pushed off the roof, jumping onto empty air and blinked to land on top of a lamppost. Guising it as a look for his next platform, he watched the figure dart behind the corner of the building to his right, disappearing just out of sight. 

He blinked again, landing onto a balcony, hiding away from the drizzling rain. Corvo watched how the figure reappeared, now perched on top of the adjoining building. The figure was sneaking closer. 

But not too close. 

Never closer than a few hundred meters. 

The figure had been shadowing Corvo for little over a week now. Ever since he’d donned the mask again and started roaming the streets. They appeared as if summoned every time he snuck out of Dunwall Tower and followed him as he made his rounds. 

They never approached him. The figure always stayed just out of reach for his Dark Vision to pick them up. 

It was as if the person tailing him knew to avoid it. 

Corvo pulled his hood deeper over his head to cover his neck from the rain. He jumped again, blinking three times in succession to make his way across the street and on top of the higher buildings. He climbed fast, pushing past slippery ventilation piping to reach the roof. When he turned to look behind him, there was no sign of his second shadow, but turning back to face the port in front of him, he could see the figure dashing after him just at the edge of his periphery. 

At this point, there wasn’t much of a question who was tailing him. Or, more to the point, which faction had sent their spies after him. Corvo hadn’t gotten a good look at the person, but there weren’t many in Dunwall, graced with the Outsider’s Mark. 

He should’ve known better than to trust Daud to take his Whaler out of Dunwall. The word of an assassin weighed very little, it seemed. But by the time the City Watch had been put together enough to raid the Flooded District, the place had been emptied out. 

Now, months into the slow recovery from the plague, the Whalers had been the least of his worries. 

He supposed he was going to have to bump that up a few notches on his list of woes. At least they were now solely focusing their attention on _him_ , rather than the Empress. He’d kept his eyes peeled around Emily. He’d hand-picked only the best and most trustworthy of Captain Curnow’s recruits to stay at her side. He’d spent every waking moment making sure that she was safe and had seen no shadow out of place. 

The only sign of the Whalers Corvo had seen since Daud had begged for his life, was the one tailing him every night. And the one tailing him must’ve known Corvo knew. They were being too obvious. He’d tried to lose the Whaler for a couple of nights now, but never managed the shake them off his trail for longer than a couple of minutes. They never approached him, they never stayed in his line of sight for long, but they were there all the same. A lone figure watching his every move. 

For now, Corvo couldn’t do much about it. He’d thought about giving chase. Hunting his stalker down and questioning their motives. The most likely reason he was being watched was that they wanted eyes and ears on him, so that he wouldn’t be able to surprise them like the last time they’d been forced to interact. But there was just no telling if that was the case. Despite Daud’s words, Corvo wouldn’t have put it past him to want to tie up loose ends.

But tonight, Corvo couldn’t do anything about it. 

Tonight, he was hunting a different kind of prey. 

Picking up his speed, Corvo ran across the slippery rooftop and leaped onto the building ahead of him. The drumming of the rain muffled his movements more. Like this, he was nearly invisible to the guards down below. None of them were feeling like looking up, lest water slide down their helmets and into their necks. 

Under Jessamine’s rule, Corvo had very rarely been ordered to do espionage. She’d had her Royal Spymaster for that. And she had wanted to be honest with her people, wishing they’d be honest with her in kind. Maybe that was where they’d gone wrong. Corvo wouldn’t have called Jessamine naïve. Never that. But perhaps if Corvo had been more attentive, he would’ve realized sooner that –

He shook his head sharply to dislodge the intrusive thoughts. There was no point in wallowing in the past now. Not, when Emily needed him in the moment. The only thing Corvo could do right now was to ensure that he wouldn’t make the same mistakes twice. 

Never again, would he let something like that happen. He would sooner be dead himself. 

He stopped momentarily to survey his surroundings. His shadow slowed down as well, balanced on top of a chimney behind him. He doubted the lurker enjoyed being out in this weather either, yet there they were, ever vigilant. When Corvo moved again, the figure disappeared. 

The nobles of Dunwall could be treacherous snakes. Rare was the highborn with good intentions through and through. No, most of them only worked to further their own interests. And Emily was still so young. So new to this. She should’ve still been playing with her dolls and hiding from her tutors, running around with the children of the kitchen staff. Instead now she’d been thrusted into adult responsibilities. Despite the best attempts of her tutors, Callista among them, the nobles could tell that a child sat upon the throne. 

And like sharks in water, they flocked, looking for that one revealing drop of blood. Some saw the opportunity to worm their ways to the good graces of the Empress, thinking that they could mold her as they saw fit. Others thought that a new ruler might be in order, since the sitting one was so young. 

Dunwall had already seen chaos. What was a little more to add to that?

Corvo would rather see neither kind finding too much purchase during the turbulent times to come. The chaos was far from over and they needed as many good nobles in court as possible. The trustworthy lords and ladies were few and far between and needed to be rewarded. 

Unfortunately, even those, who wanted stability and peace in the Empire, could suffer in the hands of more opportunistic relatives. One such noble was the young head of the Beaumont family. The plague had hit them hard and now a young Lord Beaumont sat as the spokesperson for his name in place of his departed mother. Lord Beaumont was an avid defender of the Empire, wishing to see the cure spread evenly amongst the rich and the poor to see an end to the conflicts. 

However, his family’s fortune had greatly been diminished by the Empire’s new direction. The higher taxes were taking a big toll on the smaller families who were already left bleeding by the quarantines. And as luck would have it, the poor young Lord had come to Lady Emily, apologizing that he was going to draw back his support to the young monarch. A cousin had managed to get his hands on some sensitive blackmail material and it would threaten the entire family branch’s reputation, if it got out. 

Unfortunate. Corvo had, however, learned, that rare was a person without anything to hide. And if he could find the blackmail material on Lord Beaumont _and_ something to hold against cousin dearest, he was sure he could still turn this around. It was dirty work, doubling as the Royal Spymaster while the court still couldn’t decide on a new one, but if it bought stability for Emily’s rule, then he would do it, again and again. 

He followed the shoreline of the river, making his way over the buildings and factories. The rain was freezing, the wind turning slight drizzle into horizontal downpour and not a lot of people were voluntarily out at this hour. Corvo needed to make his way across the city to reach the older Beaumont cousin’s home. He and his family had used to live near Draper’s Ward, but after the plague had hit, they were now forced to reside in a smaller building further away. The Beaumonts were far from the richest noble families in Dunwall and the cousin had no business on the Beaumont estate further up the river. Their manor might’ve paled in comparison to the likes of the Boyles, but it was still nothing to scoff at. 

Corvo crouched under the ventilation piping of a neighboring building and adjusted the lenses on his mask to take in the Beaumont Manor. Four floors, open hallways and rich decoration, it seemed. Easy to find places to hide, if need be. He could see a handful of servants moving about inside and three or more guards refusing to take their rounds outside, instead choosing to huddle under prentices and smoke in solidarity. From his post, he couldn’t see the man of the house or any of his family, but he had no doubt they’d be somewhere on the premises. 

A soft thud somewhere behind him revealed that his shadow had reached the same building. 

Now here was a problem. Would the Beaumont cousin have the resources to contact the Whalers? Would a man like that have the foresight to hire assassins to cut off Corvo before he could ever step foot inside?

Maybe. Corvo wouldn’t have put it past him. 

But then again, _protecting_ a target had never seemed like something the Whalers would do. It was too much trouble, surely. 

He closed his eyes, and the next time he opened them, the world had turned sepia toned. He craned his neck towards the sound he’d heard a moment ago, but the person was still too far to be seen. 

Behind the mask, Corvo licked his teeth. 

Making up his mind, he pushed off the ledge of the building and blinked. He landed on the Beaumont house’s roof, near a window to the attic. With one last look around, he opened it and slid in. 

The attic was dusty and filled with boxes and furniture covered by blankets. It didn’t look like anyone came around here often. Better for him. Corvo shrugged off his dripping wet coat and folded it between some boxed. It wouldn’t do him well to leave puddles everywhere he went. The citizens of Dunwall were slowly forgetting about the Masked Felon with more pressing matters occupying their thoughts, and the less they had cause to think about him, the better. Corvo would have to try to get through this with his crossbow, sword and Mark alone. 

It would hardly be a problem, he was sure. 

He was just about to move towards the latch to the third floor, when something heavy landed on the roof above him. 

Dark Vision clouded his eyes and he looked up. 

The Whaler had miscalculated. They must’ve thought Corvo would’ve moved on by now, unable to see him from such a distance. But now they’d gotten too close. Corvo stared through the roof at the glowing shape of a human, and the whaling mask stared right back. For two excruciatingly long seconds, neither of them moved. 

Corvo drew out his sword and the Whaler blinked. Just like that, they’d disappeared. 

Corvo grit his teeth and placed the sword back on his belt. 

This might turn out to be more of a problem than he’d hoped. 

He needed to hurry. 

A disgruntled maid had offered to sell information on the Beaumont cousin. The man was known to be cheap and when the plague had hit, he’d laid off most of his servants, including the woman who’d agreed to gossip about her old employer for the low price of fifty coin. 

The informant had told Corvo, that the dear cousin Beaumont was quite the gambler. There was a reason the family wasn’t quite as wealthy as they’d been in the past and the shifts the Empire had gone through recently weren’t the only ones. The former maid had said that whatever evidence the older Beaumont cousin kept, would probably be in his safe. Out of reach from the rest of his family.

All Corvo needed to do was find his office and slip out before anyone knew any better. 

Sans his coat, Corvo made his way down from the attic. The office could be found from the third floor. He pressed against the wall and swept the house over with his Dark Vision. 

There were two guards on this floor. One of them had opened a window and was leaning out while smoking, while the other made lazy rounds. There were no other signs of life close by. The closest were the two servants moving about one floor down and a third guard studying something on the wall right beneath Corvo. There was still no sign of the man of the house. 

Assured that nothing was threatening at the moment, Corvo let his Dark Vision fade, feeling a familiar ache behind his eyes as the strain mellowed out. 

A dash of red disappeared behind a corner at the far end of the corridor. So, the Whaler had followed him in after all. They must’ve found another way in. And now they’d sacrificed their advantage. It was hard to keep shadowing someone while still keeping one’s distance in a cramped space like this. If the Whaler wanted to keep an eye on him, they’d be forced to draw closer. 

Corvo strained his eyes again just in time to see the glowing figure disappear out of range. He gritted his teeth, weighing down his options. The assassin had kept their distance before, but this was a clear threat. 

But a threat of what, he still couldn’t tell. 

Corvo couldn’t just follow his stalker and confront them now. This was not the right time and the Whaler must’ve known that as well. That must’ve made them bold. Corvo needed to get what he came here for, Whaler or no. After that, he could decide what to do about it. But for now, he couldn’t let them distract him. 

The guard smoking had gotten company. The guard from the second floor must’ve gotten a whiff of the smoke and was now chewing the man out. It’d be easiest for Corvo to just take all three of them out to avoid detection. It would raise questions later, when the guards woke up, but by then, Corvo would be long gone. 

He crouched down low and made his way towards the lone guard making rounds. He listened to his steps as they meandered around. When the guard stopped to stretch out a yawn, he slid behind the man and grabbed his head into a lock. The guard had barely enough time to let out a surprised yelp before he was already being lowered to the ground. Corvo dragged the unconscious man to a cleaning closet and shoved him in. 

The two others still remained by the window. The cigar had been put out and now the two of them were prattling about something. When Corvo drew nearer, he caught the tail end of the conversation. 

“Anyway,” the first guard said. “Should we gather for whiskey and cigars tonight?”

Corvo poked his head around the corner. The other guard gave the first one a look like he was out of his mind, before nodding. “Yes,” he said. “I believe so.”

It didn’t look like they were in any hurry to continue their rounds, but Corvo didn’t feel like risking it. Getting caught red-handed was the last thing he needed right now. He gave a quick glance around to see if the Whaler was skulking around somewhere close. When he could see no sign of them, he turned to pick up a decorative statue from its pedestal and threw it across the hall. 

The guards fell silent immediately. They remained alert for a moment, until the other one blew out a long sigh.

“What’s he doing now?” he grumbled. “I swear, if he breaks _one more vase_ , I’m done sticking my neck out for him.”

The other guard chuckled and turned to close the window, while the one who’d just spoken started heading for the direction of the noise. 

Perfect. Corvo snuck after the man, following him quiet like a shadow as he made his way further away from his colleague. When they’d gotten far enough that they wouldn’t be heard, Corvo knocked the guy out same as the first one. He joined his friend in the closet. 

Now, as for the third guard – 

A heavy thud behind him had Corvo whirling around on his feet. 

He hadn’t even realized that the third guard had noticed him. He’d been quieter in his approach than most of his coworkers, sneaking up closer, with his sword held out to strike. 

Now, though, he was lying face first on the carpet. 

Corvo approached him slowly, kneeling down next to him. 

There was a sleep dart sticking out of his neck. 

Corvo looked up. The Whaler stood at the other end of the hallway, looking right at him as they adjusted their wristbow. The red-clad Whaler nodded their head, before striding out of sight. 

Bile rose up Corvo’s throat. What kind of sick game was this?

He’d only seen one Whaler dressed in red and he didn’t believe in coincidences. 

Whaling mask or no, he had a bad feeling he could recognize the assassin. It took all of his restraint not to clamber to his feet and follow after the figure to demand answers. 

Now was not the time. He bit his teeth together so hard his jaw ached. 

Now was _not_ the time. 

Corvo plucked the dart from the guard’s neck and pocketed it. He shoved the man with the other two and closed the door after them. It was starting to look cramped in there and he doubted he could safely store another one in. 

Unrest roiled around in his gut as he started making his way towards Beaumont’s office. He looked around the manor with his Dark Vision, but the Whaler had once more managed to disappear completely. All he spotted were the two maids downstairs folding laundry together. 

He wanted out of this house. He needed time to digest this, but all he could focus on were the unformed thoughts in his head. He knew the Whaler was somewhere close by. They had to be. Corvo wasn’t used to being watched like this. It was so much easier being the one doing the watching. 

Movement from his periphery. A glowing figure skulked around just at the edges of his vison. 

Corvo hurried towards the office. 

The door was locked, but the window wasn’t. Corvo was careful not to leave wet footprints on the carpet as he slid to the safe. 

Beaumont’s birthday, that was what the maid had said. A smart man the Beaumont cousin was not. Self-assured and confident in all the wrong ways. How could anyone ever hurt a nobleman such as him? 

Men like Beaumont shouldn’t be putting so much money into betting. The thrill of the gamble had taken down people much smarter than him. 

The safe opened without trouble and Corvo pulled out the paperwork inside. 

Well, well, well. It looked like the good Lord Beaumont’s mother had taken part in an illicit love affair and her son’s bloodline could be called to question. The proof was in letters written between the two lovers. It wasn’t really Corvo’s place to judge. They’d been careless. Jessamine had always made sure, there’d be no paper trail for their trysts. But a lot of the good will the Beaumonts had gathered had rested on the matriarch’s dainty shoulders. Disgracing her and removing her son from the position as the head of the family could tip the scales to the cousin’s favor. 

No matter. Without proof the Beaumont cousin’s words would be little more than the ravings of a jealous family member. Corvo stashed the letters into his breast pocket and dug in deeper. 

Not that the older cousin would’ve probably lasted long as the head of the family anyway, if these financial papers were anything to go by. Behind his cheap, penny-pinching visage hid a man with no control over his spending habits. He hadn’t laid off his servants to prepare for the unsure future. He’d laid them off, because the family bank account was in the red. Gambling, hallucinogens and paid company. Hm. That ought to be enough to drive the man’s reputation into ruin. For a while, at least. 

Before he could pocket these papers, though, the door behind him was thrown open. He’d lost track of time for one moment and someone had snuck up on him. The older Beaumont cousin froze in the doorway, mouth falling open. 

“What is the meaning of this?” he shouted as Corvo lifted his crossbow to put the man to sleep, fast. “Guards! Guards? Get over here!”

Before Corvo could as much as blink, something landed on the floor between them. A canister of some sort. Corvo jumped back just as the it started bleeding dust all over the room. 

The cloud reached Beaumont first, enveloping him fully. The man tried to cover his face, but couldn’t help breathing in the dust. And the moment he did, the coughing fit started. Corvo made for the window, but wasn’t quite fast enough himself either, breathing in a lungful of the stuff through the gaps in his mask. 

Baffle Dust. Corvo had heard the Whalers preferred this stuff these days. After Emily’s more lenient approach to the weeper problem, the City Watch had been given canisters and canisters of the stuff and Captain Curnow had briefed Corvo on its effects. The burn at the back of his throat made him want to cough it out, but Corvo knew it’d only make the effects worse. His eyes watered as he tried to swallow the feeling down. He threw the window open, about to climb out when the Whaler marched in. 

Corvo’s back grew stiff and his hand fell to his sword. The Whaler paid him no mind as they shoved the wheezing Beaumont out of their way with little care. Instead of aiming for Corvo, the Whaler walked to the safe, though. They closed it, reset the dials back to zero and only then turned to face him. 

The dust was fading now, but the effects still lingered. Corvo’s head was spinning, his eyes watering and he knew he couldn’t take the Whaler on, if he was right about the identity of the person behind the mask. Corvo grit his teeth together, hand hovering over the hilt of his sword. 

The Whaler took a step closer and Corvo drew back. That made the Whaler stop and tilt their head. 

And then they blinked out of sight. 

Corvo whirled around just in time to see the red-coated figure disappear through the open window. 

The taste of bitter bile rose back into his mouth. Behind him, Beaumont was leaning heavy against the wall, the effects of the dust leaving him woozy while he regained his composure. Corvo couldn’t afford to stay around for much longer either.

His head spun as he climbed out through the window and it wasn’t just the after effects of the dust. The cold air helped a little. The knowledge that the Whaler was still probably somewhere close by didn’t. He jumped and blinked, crossing the empty space between the Beaumont manor and the neighboring buildings, landing back where he’d started. He climbed to the roof and crouched down under a large ventilation complex. Away from the rain, he removed his mask and ran gloved fingers over his face, pulling at his skin. 

His heart was still beating in his throat. Complicated feelings swirled in his head, refusing to take form. 

Only when he heard that Whaler landing not too far to his right did he remember the coat he’d left behind in the attic. 

The Whaler tossed it at him and Corvo caught it easily. His jaw tensed, fingers curling around the fabric. The Whaler didn’t seem to share a bit of his animosity, instead just turning around as if to blink away. 

”Daud,” Corvo rasped. 

The Whaler stopped in his tracks and turned to look at him over his shoulder. 

”Attano,” he said, voice muffled by the mask. And then he jumped, disappearing into the night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a one-shot. But I guess now that the quarantine is in action, I have a lot more free time. Time to write some Dishonored fics, I guess. So let’s see if there’s more to this idea.

The Beaumont manor wasn’t the last time he saw Daud. 

Because of course it wasn’t. 

Corvo had hoped that whatever twisted debt the assassin thought he owed to him, the nearly botched mission had satisfied him enough to leave it be. But no. Apparently it hadn’t been quite enough. 

Daud was still there whenever Corvo left the Tower at night. He wasn’t even wearing the whaling mask anymore. No point in it, now that his identity had been revealed, Corvo supposed bitterly. No, the man still didn’t get close, but it seemed he was more than happy to let Corvo know he was being followed by remaining in his line of sight for longer. 

The bastard probably thought he was being funny. 

“Corvo!” Emily cried out, drawing him out of his thoughts. She’d spied him passing by and now threw the door to the study open with enough force to send it bouncing from the wall, causing her tutor to cringe. Before the young monarch could be admonished for scuffing the wallpaper, she’d already launched herself towards Corvo. He caught her easily mid leap and gave her a spin around. She was growing fast now, and a man less used to hauling unconscious bodies across Dunwall streets might’ve started to have trouble picking her up like this. “Save me, Corvo!” she said. “Miss Graf is holding me hostage!”

The tutor sighed, defeated. “These divisions won’t do themselves, your majesty,” she tried, dejection clear in her voice. 

Emily whined, hanging like a sack of potatoes from Corvo’s shoulder. “Please, Corvo.” Her puppy dog eyes could’ve rivaled even Jessamine’s on her best day. 

Well. She’d been very good with her studies lately. Corvo had been keeping careful attention that her tutors weren’t slacking off. Emily might’ve been still young, but she knew she had responsibilities. 

But a young kid shouldn’t spend all her days cooped up inside. Especially since it was a rare, sunny day outside. Empress or no, she still needed time to play. 

Corvo turned on his heels, Emily still on his shoulder and started walking away. 

“Yay!” Emily cheered, nearly managing to drown out the tutor’s exasperated groan. 

Jessamine had always been better at telling her no. 

He supposed that was just one thing more he’d have to learn now. 

Emily had tutors for everything a young empress might need. Math, sciences, literacy, history. Dancing, singing, playing the piano. Corvo had personally hand-picked her fencing teacher. It seemed like a good source to let out some of the endless amounts of energy she managed to store in her tiny frame. 

Still, despite having one of the best fencing teachers in all the Isles at her disposal, she preferred sparring with Corvo. 

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that more often than not, Corvo allowed her to win. Maybe part of it was that the teacher was less enthusiastic about letting the lessons turn into play time.

And if Emily wanted to play the pirate queen defeating the terrifying sea creature, who was Corvo to deny her the joy? She was still learning. 

Once Emily had managed to defeat her foe and Corvo was keeling over in mock agony, she seemed to get a better look at the state Corvo was in. 

“You look so tired,” she said. “I didn’t beat you up too bad, did I?”

“I’ll survive,” he muttered, getting up. 

Truth be told, he hadn’t been able to sleep well since the incident at the Beaumont manor. He’d already been tightly wound, knowing he had a Whaler on his trail. Finding out the one shadowing him was the Knife of Dunwall himself had only made it worse. 

There was never any sign of Daud when Corvo was within the Tower’s premises. He never showed up, when Corvo had to go out for official business. 

He only appeared, when Corvo put on the mask. 

That hadn’t given Corvo much of an incentive the leave the Tower much lately. And without his nightly rounds, he was having trouble falling asleep. But going out just didn’t have the same shine to it anymore, knowing that he would constantly be shadowed by the grim reminder of his past. 

Corvo didn’t need to be constantly reminded that he’d failed and might be liable to fail again. He didn’t want it. 

And he couldn’t sleep well, knowing that. 

Emily pushed her lower lip out into a pout. 

“Callista keeps telling me I should go to bed earlier,” she said. Her arms crossed and she harrumphed. “But I’m not tired! I keep telling her that I’m the empress and I can go to sleep whenever I want, but she says even empresses need to sleep.”

Corvo smiled. He wasn’t really the right person to criticize her. Not with the sleeping habits he kept. Any scolding coming from him would’ve been hypocritical. 

His smile gained a downwards curve. 

He wished Jess would’ve still been here. She would’ve known what to say. 

She’d always been the better parent out of the two of them. 

Emily watched him with a frown. 

“I promise I’ll go to bed early,” she said carefully. “If you do that too. Okay?”

Oh. Corvo’s smile came back, softer. He patted Emily’s head, pushing hair out of her eyes. He knew he couldn’t give her promises he wasn’t going to keep. 

“I’ll try,” he said, his voice raspy with emotion. 

He’d try. He really would. 

But wanting to do something and actually doing it were two different things. 

And later that night, he lay awake in his bed, eyes closed, body strung tight and unable to fall asleep. 

He’d taken a long bath, had light dinner and a small night cap of Gristol cider. 

The bed was comfortable, the linens were clean and the room was quiet. 

And yet, he couldn’t get his body to relax. 

He’d never been fast to fall asleep before. Too many thoughts in his head, too much energy. And after Jess had died, it’d just gotten worse. If he wasn’t exhausted to the point of collapsing, he might end up spending hours just tossing and turning in his bed. 

He curled and uncurled his fingers under his covers. 

It’d been four days since he’d last gone out for the night. 

He ground his teeth together. 

It’d be time wasted anyway. He had no mission. He had no one to spy on. Going out now would just make him feel worse. 

He started drumming his fingers against the mattress. He could hear the guards making rounds outside. They were trying to be quiet. They always were. 

Corvo should just stay here. It didn’t matter, if he wasn’t going to be able to fall asleep or not. He’d survived on less sleep before. And it only meant that he’d be able to fall asleep easier the next night. He really should just stay here and count the frills on the curtains. 

He stared at the ceiling, fingers drumming an unsteady rhythm. 

Five minutes later he was wearing the mask and running across the roofs towards Estate District. 

Not too long after that, he spotted the figure following him. 

Like clockwork, there was Daud. Say what you will about the man, he was punctual. It’d been four days, yet here he was again. 

Corvo didn’t like the implications. 

He ran for a while, crossing Wrenhaven River. Daud was never far, but still well out of his Dark Vision’s range. By the time Corvo reached Clavering Boulevard, his heart was pumping and his lungs were burning from the strain. Even though he’d lost sight of Daud a couple of times on the way, the man was there, when he stopped. 

What could Daud possibly want from him at this point? Clearly he wasn’t there to kill him. He’d said he was done with killing, if that could be believed. And he wasn’t trailing Emily. No, the only person he seemed to be bothering, was Corvo. 

There was nothing he could do to pay back for what he’d done. Things like that weren’t simply forgiven and Jess had been far from the only person he’d killed during his long career as an assassin. Just because he had regrets, didn’t mean he could wipe the slate clean by doing whatever it was he thought he was doing. 

He’d begged for his life and Corvo had let him live. Corvo was no killer. And in return, Daud had promised to leave Dunwall. 

Yet here he was. 

Corvo might’ve heard his plea and understood the guilt behind it. 

But forgive him he could not. 

Time healed all wounds, they said, but to Corvo, it was all still too fresh. The pain had dulled, but it hadn’t gone away. 

And seeing the man partly responsible for it following him around like he had something to give didn’t help one bit. 

He wondered how far Daud was willing to go with all this. 

He wondered, if he’d be able to shake him off even if he tried. 

The man was a master assassin. 

He crouched down at the edge of a rooftop and studied the streets below him. 

It was easy for Daud to follow him, when Corvo made his destination clear. When he made a straight line across Dunwall, it’d be easy to stay on his trail even without a Mark. 

Corvo ran a tongue over his teeth. 

He wondered if the same held true, when his movements seemed more random. 

Corvo pushed off, blinking onto some piping below. He started to run, faster this time. 

These parts of the city he was intimately familiar with. When he’d first been given his Mark, this was where he’d practiced to use it. He’d been stressed out and terrified about everything. Jessamine’s death, Coldrgide, Emily, _everything_. There was power in control and Corvo had been starving for some control of his life. He’d learned every nook and cranny of the area, familiarized himself with the streets to avoid the guards and the weepers and the rats and the Overseers. Now he knew the boulevard and the adjoining streets like the back of his hand. 

Even though it’d been a while, it was all coming back to him now. The knowledge was all there, not too deep in his mind. When he cut across the street, he didn’t even have to think about it. Corvo ran and blinked, climbed higher only to dive back down to street level. He dodged guards and citizens, remaining out of sight while making a zig-zagging path towards the Golden Cat, then making a turn and rounding back through another path. 

He could see Daud following him at first, but the longer he ran, the less he saw the distinctive red in his periphery. Then, at one point, he lost sight of the man completely. 

Corvo didn’t stop. 

He pushed until his muscles were burning. His head ached from the mana he’d drained, but he didn’t stop to wait. He ran until he felt like he couldn’t take a single step more. 

And in the end, Corvo returned back to the same spot he’d left. He climbed on top of Bunting’s apartment, across from Galvani’s offices and sat down on the rooftop. His lungs felt like they were about to rip out of his chest and he hadn’t felt this alive in ages. Corvo dug out a vial of Piero’s Remedy from his pocket and picked the cork open with his teeth. He drained the whole thing in one go, dropped the vial and opened another to settle in for the wait. 

For a moment, there was nothing. This high up, he wasn’t even fully visible to the streets below. He took another sip, drinking slower this time.

Disappointingly, he didn’t have to wait for that long. After maybe about five minutes of calm, he heard the telltale sound of someone blinking close by. When he opened his eyes, the glowing shape of Daud had appeared on the balcony below him. The man was looking around, craning his neck while he perched on the railing. He looked like he was about to blink again, when he suddenly turned around and looked straight up at Corvo. 

The moment he spotted him, Daud relaxed. It was hard to tell what his expression was through the Dark Vision, but his shoulders went down by notches and the fist at his side curled open. 

Corvo’s mouth tasted bitter. He tried to hide it with the unpleasant taste of the remedy. So, he thought as they looked at each other through the respective glows of their visions. There was no shaking off the assassin. Bodyguard. Whatever Daud thought he was to Corvo now. 

What did the man want?

In the two weeks following the incident at the Beaumont manor, he hadn’t done much of anything but follow Corvo around. He rarely even got this close. 

Corvo turned to look up at the sky. His Dark Vision faded and with it Daud disappeared from his line of sight. 

If the man truly felt like he owed something to Corvo, he could pay back by leaving Gristol altogether. That was what he’d promised to do, after all. 

There must’ve been better ways to pay back his debts. As far as Corvo was concerned, the man didn’t owe him _anything_. And even if he did, it wasn’t something he could just pay back. 

Corvo wanted nothing from him. 

Yet he didn’t know how to get rid of the man. 

Talking to him was out of the question. And he’d now been demonstrated that he couldn’t outrun him either. The only way he could think to avoid Daud was to stop leaving Dunwall Tower altogether. 

But that wasn’t an option either. With the walls closing in on him, running outside felt like freedom. Out here, away from the prying eyes of the nobles and the Overseers, Corvo didn’t have to worry about the Empire or Emily’s safety. He loved the girl to bits, but he missed Jessamine so much. She’d been able to see, when Corvo was getting stir crazy and would always, ever so subtly send him out on the streets, when he got that look in his eyes. 

Now there weren’t many people Emily could trust as easily and she needed Corvo at her side. 

He covered his face with his hands. 

It was only going to be temporary. She would grow. They would find her trustworthy advisors. Dunwall would grow calmer, Gristol would settle down and the Isles would be at peace again. 

It was going to be fine. 

It was just going to take time. And right now, it didn’t always feel like they were going to pull through. 

When he next opened his eyes and took a look, Daud had disappeared again. 

Corvo knew better than to hope he’d left for good.

*

Emily’s pout was visible all the way from the doorway.

“You didn’t go to bed early,” she groused, arms crossed and frown set deep. 

Sometimes she could look so much like her mother. Corvo sighed with a smile and gathered his papers. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” he said. 

She huffed and turned away, clearly trying to guilt him into feeling bad. 

It was kind of working. 

He chuckled.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.”

“Well, when will you not have so much on your mind?” she asked, entering the office fully. Her two guards remained outside, trusting her to be safe with her Lord Protector. 

Corvo turned to look back on his papers. 

He didn’t have an answer for her. To be fair, he’d fallen asleep the moment his head had hit the pillow last night, but five hours of sleep was still just five hours. 

Emily pouted, then grabbed a paper from his pile, sat down on the floor and started drawing. 

Lord Beaumont had returned as one of the most vocal advocates for Emily’s reign. The man might’ve been young, but he had a good head on his shoulders and he held healthy respect for the throne. 

The latest gossip was that his cousin had been caught taking part in illegal gambling. His wife was moving to live with her sister for a while and he’d been forced to leave the city to wait for the scandal to blow over. It would take years before he’d be able to show his face around these parts agian. 

Lord Beaumont was ecstatic. He might not have had the full picture, but he was a bright young man. He knew accidents like that didn’t just happen. The material your cousin had used to blackmail you with didn’t just appear on your desk overnight. 

They needed more gratefulness like that. More nobles in debt to the Empire. There was only so much you could do by official means and they needed people, who could handle situations like these properly. 

But Corvo was just one man. And doing both the job of the Royal Protector and the Spymaster took a lot of time and energy. 

It would’ve been really great, if he’d been able to sleep better at night. 

But, of course, that wasn’t really an option and bemoaning it wasn’t going to make it better.

*

Corvo stared at Daud across the street. There he was again. Never too far.

The assassin must’ve gotten some sort of smug satisfaction out of this. Knowing that he was able to run circles around the Lord Protector. What else could he be getting out of this? 

Whether Corvo liked it or not, Daud had saved his hide back at the Beaumont manor. Twice. Because of the Baffle Dust, the Beaumont cousin had no recollection of the Masked Felon in his office and even though Corvo now carried a few canisters with him, hindsight wouldn’t have helped him one bit. 

If it was the obligation to pay back his debt, then Daud had already fulfilled his end. Corvo had been careless. Daud had. Helped. 

Corvo ground his teeth together and glared at the man. From this distance, he was sure the effect was dulled considerably. But he didn’t know how else to take out his frustration. 

Daud seemed wholly unaffected. 

Well. If he wanted to help, then he was free to do just that. 

Corvo was tired. And tired Corvo, was a petty Corvo. 

He got to his feet and set out to find a target. He found one soon enough. A lone officer was making his nightly rounds, whistling as he went, hands in his pockets to keep them warm. Corvo landed on the roof of a smaller building and watched the man wander around. Since the cure to the plague had been found, the streets had grown calmer and the City Watch could breathe out a long-awaited sigh of relief. The guards and officers found themselves with a lot less to do. Corvo supposed it was good. Everyone had been so high strung it’d felt like the whole city was about to snap. Now they could finally breathe a little easier. 

The guard was idling by a lamppost. Corvo looked around to see, if there were any other guards nearby, but the man was alone. 

”I’ll write to her again. She has to see reason,” he said, to seemingly no one. Corvo craned his neck and spied Daud perched high above him. 

Behind his mask, Corvo was grinning. 

The distance between his current spot and the lamppost behind the guard wasn’t too long. It’d be easy to blink and land without making a single sound. 

It would’ve also been very easy to miscalculate the jump and fall. 

It could be dangerous to do stunts like that, after all. 

He blinked and materialized just centimeters off his mark. He made a show of trying to reach for the lamp, but missing. 

Corvo landed on the cobblestone with a soft thud. By the time he turned around, the guard officer had already slumped down. There was a sleep dart sticking out of his neck. 

He huffed, begrudgingly impressed. He supposed he should be glad that Daud had at least kept his word about killing. He pocketed the dart and sat the poor officer up better. When he turned to look over his shoulder, there was no sign of Daud. 

Hm. He got back up and left the guard there, safe in knowing that with the calmer times, the man would wake up in a couple of hours with stiff shoulders and maybe a headache, but nothing worse than that.

Corvo continued onward, looking for more people. Even now, after all the fear from the plague had mellowed out, the streets were close to abandoned at night. The fear still lingered and there was safety in the warm hearths at home. A handful of people were out and about, but Corvo didn’t want to bother the civilians. 

He found a group of three guards near the waterfront. A whaling ship was passing by, on its way to the docks, and the guards were watching it with much interest. 

Corvo landed behind them, far enough that he couldn’t hear what they were talking about. 

But still well within their line of sight, if they were to turn around. 

It was the simplest thing. Sneaking past a group of guards while they were preoccupied by something else was easy. He’d done it plenty of times before. Hell, he’d even done it in a den of trained assassins. 

There was an empty can between him and the mouth of an alleyway he’d set as his target. 

He hit his foot against it, sending it flying. When it hit the wall, the racket was loud enough to wake the dead. 

The guards were alerted immediately, turning around to face him. 

They didn’t get much of a look before the Baffle Dust had already enveloped them. Daud gave Corvo a long and unimpressed look before blinking out of sight again.

Corvo too was gone before the dust had settled. He watched the guards looking around in confusion before going back to talking about what sounded like whale oil taxation. 

When he looked around with his Dark Vision, Daud had once again disappeared out of its reach. 

He wondered what the man would do, if he now jumped back down there to strike up a conversation with the guards. 

It would appear that Daud didn’t want him to be seen. Accidentally, at least. And he was right, it would be better for Corvo to remain unseen. Right now, the public and the City Watch were just happy that most of the madness was behind them. The Masked Felon had faded into a myth, a part of the all the lunacy that had held the city in its grips for a time. But if he showed up again, wearing the same mask, it could start a witch hunt. 

He couldn’t afford something like that finding its way back to Emily. She didn’t deserve it. None of it. 

It made sense that Daud would try to prevent that. 

Corvo still didn’t have to like it.

He started making his way back towards the Tower. He didn’t see a sign of Daud, but at this point it was no longer a question of if he was there, but where he was hiding. Corvo kept a slow pace, walking and blinking rather than running and jumping and all the while he could feel a pair of eyes on him. 

Near the Tower, he slowed down. The building rose large and imposing over the line of the buildings before him. He walked to the very edge of the roof and studied it. 

The jump across was too long. He wouldn’t have been able to make it in one blink even if he’d taken a running leap. Maybe two blinks would do it, but those were always difficult to time right in such a quick succession. 

He wondered if this was crazy. If maybe he shouldn’t. 

A fall from this height might kill him outright. Or it might end with him out of count for the foreseeable future. Neither of which would be good for Emily. 

Neither of which would be good for him either. 

He toed the line of the roof. 

It was insane. His hands were sweating. 

But if he did, would – 

”Don’t even think about it.”

He startled. He could give the man that much credit. Corvo looked at Daud over his shoulder. 

Would he catch Corvo if he “fell”? 

He might try to. It wouldn’t end well for either of them. 

Corvo drew away from the edge, eyeing Daud from behind his mask. 

The man looked like he’d aged decades in a spun of about a year. He had dark bruises under his eyes and his skin drooped. 

He didn’t look like he’d gotten much more sleep than Corvo. 

Corvo’s silence seemed to make him uncomfortable. He shifted weight from one foot to another, looking like he was half a step away from blinking again. But it seemed that as long as Corvo was looking at him, he couldn’t leave. 

If it was a conversation he was looking for, he’d be waiting for a long time. Corvo hadn’t been much of a conversationalist even back when Jess had still been alive. 

Now he had less and less to say every day. 

Daud hesitated. His brows furrowed and he looked to be thinking over his words. 

”You’ve gotten sloppier,” he said and a look of regret washed over his face immediately. He closed his eyes and cursed under his breath. 

Corvo watched him a moment longer. 

”Stop following me around,” he said, before walking past him and starting to make his way back towards Dunwall Tower.


	3. Chapter 3

He supposed Daud had actually listened to his wishes, because after that night, he no longer followed Corvo around. 

Corvo made his way through sleeping Dunwall. And inside, he was seething. 

Instead, Daud had sent three Whalers to watch his back. 

And the Whalers weren’t quite as subtle, as Daud had been. 

At first, it’d been just one. When Corvo had managed to easily shrug them off his trail, it’d been two the following night. Then three. 

Before being forced to run from a whole fleet of masked assassins, Corvo had decided there was no escaping his fate. It’d be better to accept the misery now, before things got out of hand. 

He slid to a stop in the middle of a roof of a four storey house and swept the surrounding cityscape with his Dark Vision. 

Without turning his head, he could see two of them now. 

Either the Whalers didn’t care, or they didn’t know about his Dark Vision. Either way, they were _always_ close enough to be seen. They consistently stayed closer than Daud, very often visible to even the naked eye. 

Corvo turned his head and spotted the third one, the one dressed in blue, standing very visibly at the other end of the roof, not even trying to hide the fact that they were following him. 

He turned his eyes away and bit his teeth together. 

Great. Just. Wonderful. 

He closed his eyes, breathed in and let out a long sigh. Right now, he had more important matters to worry about. He walked to the edge, crouched down and blinked down to a balcony across the street. He could hear the faint sounds of the Whalers doing the same somewhere close by. 

And he’d thought it was annoying to have Daud following him. Having three glowing figures in his line of sight _every time he used Dark Vision_ was somehow even more aggravating. 

Color him surprised. 

But for now, there was nothing he could do about it. As long as they remained as nothing but silent observers, he’d have no other choice but to accept it. Even if just for tonight. As long as they wouldn’t keep him from completing his mission, he’d let it slide. 

It was a quiet night in Dunwall. Not many people were out and about. But unrest was simmering just beneath the surface, and once more, the Masked Felon was needed. 

He pushed off towards Holger Square. 

As it turned out, while the Empire’s attention had been elsewhere, trouble had been brewing in the ranks of the Abbey. The plague had left everyone shaky and the Overseers hadn’t escaped from the calamity unscathed. Having lost two High Overseers in a short amount of time had left the usually united Abbey unbalanced. 

A new High Overseer would be picked soon and all signs were pointing at Yul Khulan to take the mantle – a choice Corvo heartily endorsed. But while the stabilizing forces of the high-ranking Overseers and Sisters were occupied with the Feast of Painted Kettles, the more over-zealous parts of the Abbey had started to splinter off. 

There’d been reports of witch-hunts in the still recovering parts of Dunwall. Men dressed in Overseers’ clothing dragging people out of their homes never to be seen again. 

There’d been no official reports from the Abbey. The current spokesperson was neither confirming nor denying anything, tight-lipped until his superiors would return to give orders. Unfortunately, that meant that the Abbey hadn’t yet renounced the actions of the zealots and sending the City Watch after them could’ve been taken as an act against the Abbey itself by the Empire. 

It was all a big mess and people were being hunted down on flimsy excuses. According to Slackjaw, the dissenters had at least three hideouts around Dunwall. Two of them were still hidden, but Slackjaw had agreed to sell the location of the third one for a very low price. 

Emily didn’t need any of this. It wasn’t like the responsibilities of an entire Empire weren’t enough already. 

If Corvo could lessen the burden even a little, he would. 

Hence, his late-night excursion. 

Life was already returning back to a tentative sense of normalcy in the more heavily populated areas. People were returning to the city and the slow healing had begun. 

Many of the dark corners of Dunwall still remained mostly abandoned, though. Especially the places where the rats still lingered. It would’ve been easy for a person to disappear, on their own volition or not.

Luckily for Corvo, the people on the streets had a good grasp on what was going on and Slackjaw had been more than happy to trade information. He still felt he owed Corvo for the time Corvo had saved him from Granny Rags and Corvo wasn’t the only one who wanted the zealots off the streets. Slackjaw was far from a saint himself, but out of the many thugs and gang leaders Corvo had met in his time, he was one of the more decent ones. 

Just another criminal feeling like they owed a debt to him. 

How had his life become this?

Maybe Corvo could’ve gotten rid of Daud and his gang by asking them to help him out with a job as well. A favor for a favor. 

Corvo grimaced. The problem was that he wanted nothing they could give him. 

Arriving close to the point Slackjaw had given him, Corvo slid down the side of a pipe to get closer to ground level. 

Yeah. No. Slackjaw might not have been a good person either, but he was predictable. 

Corvo didn’t know what to expect from Daud. 

He would’ve rather not think about it. 

The zealots had set themselves a hideout in an abandoned warehouse. Either the owner had ran away or died during the plague, but it certainly didn’t look like anyone had come bothering the Overseers here. Cornered by two larger buildings, there was a small courtyard, two docking bays and one overturned rail cart. 

And leaning against the rail cart were two Overseers. 

They still wore the clothing and masks of the wartime Overseers, but the clothes were starting to look scragglier than those on the usual Abbeymen. Their uniforms had been unwashed for weeks now, it seemed, and the grime of Dunwall tended to stick hard. The metallic sheen of their buttons and belts had been dimmed and the markings of the Abbey on the sleeves were barely visible through the dried muck. 

One of the Overseers was fruitlessly trying to wipe grime off his mas with a rag just as dirty as everything else around here. His muttered complaints were loud enough to be heard from the second-floor window of the neighboring building, where Corvo was watching them. The other Overseer seemed to care very little for his looks, the golden sheen of his mask barely recognizable from under the filth. He was too busy tinkering with one of those music boxes. 

Corvo swept the yard with his eyes, but the only other glowing spots near were the Whalers above him. If Slackjaw’s information was to be believed, there was about a dozen or so of these zealots out in the streets, holed up in three hideouts. Unfortunately for the both of them, this location was the only one Slackjaw knew for sure, the other two still hidden from them. 

The one trying to clean his mask started rubbing faster, groaning when it did him little good. The two of them certainly didn’t seem to be on high alert. Where were the rest? Inside the warehouse? No, Corvo couldn’t see any figures in there either. 

He made a round over their small base, looking to see if he could find any others skulking about. When he came up empty, he perched back on top of one of the neighboring buildings and thought about what to do next. 

The others must’ve been out on one of their witch hunts. Or preaching at street corners. Corvo would need to take one of the Overseers in for questioning. Looking at the two of them, the one wiping at his mask seemed more of a nervous wreck. Getting him to talk should be easy enough. The one wearing his grime with pride seemed like the kind of a person to preach at his captor rather than answer his questions. 

Corvo looked around the rooftop and spotted a place the warehouse workers had clearly used as a break spot during better times. He grabbed an empty glass bottle and weighed it in his hand. Looking over at the Overseers, he threw the bottle down behind a corner, close enough to be heard, but far enough not to be seen. 

The glass shattered loud against an empty dumpster. The Overseer working on the music box shot up, looking around wildly, while his colleague just sat with his back as straight as a rod. 

“What was that?”

The one without his mask on opened and closed his mouth in confusion. Before he could give anything resembling a response, the other Overseer had drawn out a sword and rushed towards the sound of the voice. “Look around!” he shouted over his shoulder, disappearing out of sight. “We’ve got a prowler on the loose!”

Perfect. While one of the Overseers rounded a corner, looking around the dumpster, the other started to make uneasy circles around the courtyard. Corvo blinked lower onto an open balcony, closer to the one poking at the dumpster, and shot a dart to the side of his neck. 

Slumping over, the Overseer planted his face against the dumpster. 

Good. Corvo made his way back to the courtyard. 

Only to find that the Overseer he’d left behind was lying against the rail cart, unmoving. 

For a second Corvo just stood still. Panic rose in his chest and he landed next to the man, reaching for his pulse. 

After confirming that the man was still alive, the panic switched into something more akin to annoyance. There was a dart sticking out from his shoulder. Corvo looked up sharply towards a Whaler in grey peering out of a close by window. 

Great. Just. Great. He pocketed the empty dart. It’d take the poor bastard hours to wake up from the anesthesia. And Corvo didn’t have time for that kind of waiting. 

The Whalers were watching him like a trio of really ugly birds. Corvo closed his eyes and counted down from ten, breathing in and out to temper the annoyance. 

Okay. Wonderful. He needed a new plan. He _could_ go looking for the other hideouts. It’d be more difficult to find them, with only a fleeting idea of the area where they _might_ be. He’d been hoping to question the Overseers for the locations directly, but since that option was no longer on the table, he was going to have to come up with something else. 

He supposed there might be something worth looking into in the warehouse itself. 

With one last look at the Whalers, Corvo made his way to the warehouse. With a jump and a blink he was in through a second floor window. 

By the looks of the place, the warehouse hadn’t been in use for a while. The rat plague had been wreaking havoc for over a year, but this place looked like it’d been left behind even earlier than that. The wooden crates were decomposing in piles on the ground floor. The Overseers must’ve pushed them around to make room for what looked to be an unnecessary amount of weaponry. Corvo moved to look around the platformed second floor, looking for signs of life. 

The Overseers had cleaned up a small office area that must’ve been where the warehouse’s owner had stayed before. A few cobbled together beds had been crammed in with old filing cabinets. Five beds in total, Corvo counted. Stacks of moldy, yellow paper had been left outside the office and only one desk remained. On top of it were cans of half-finished cans of jellied eels and bread crumbs. 

A simple sweep over the office didn’t reveal anything at first, but looking it over with his Dark Vision, Corvo spotted a secret compartment behind a shelf. He pushed the shelf aside and pocketed the five or so coins in there before picking up a stack of more fresh papers.

Among scribbled strictures and daily chore lists, there was a letter there from another hideout. Reading through it, it very clearly confirmed the existence of the other two hideouts Slackjaw had been talking about. 

Unfortunately for him, it didn’t disclose the actual locations, just general ideas of things surrounding them. 

Corvo ground his teeth together. This was barely helpful. He _needed_ to find the hideouts and deal with the zealots. 

But all he had to go on were the rambling writings of a person trying to careful what they revealed. 

He was sure he was going to be able to find the hideouts in time. In a few weeks or so, if he was lucky. With a little bit of sleuthing, help from Slackjaw and a large heaping of luck, he _would_ find them. The problem was that it would take time and that would give the Overseers time to prepare. They’d soon find that one of their hideouts had been sacked and they’d bulk up the remaining two while waiting for an attack. It would only serve to make Corvo’s life that much harder. 

”One of us is down!”

Corvo’d head shot up and he turned towards the sound of the voice. Activating his Dark Vision, he spotted three new Overseers outside. When had they arrived? Peering out through the only window in the office, Corvo could see that one of the Overseers had knelt down next to the one a Whaler had knocked out, while the two others were looking around the courtyard with their swords drawn. 

Corvo licked his teeth, then looked at the letter he’d found. 

This could be a blessing in disguise. 

He stashed the letter into his breast pocket and got one foot out through the window before seeing the Whalers descend down on the Overseers. 

By the time he’d finished his long and suffering groan, the Whalers had already knocked them out.

Corvo buried his masked face into his hands. 

This had to stop. 

When he did drop out through the window to the yard, the Whalers had already pulled back out of sight. A quick glance around revealed two of the three, above his head on the roof of the warehouse. The four Overseers had been propped up against the cart with the music box between them. 

Corvo bit his teeth together and drew a long breath. On the exhale, he blinked. 

He blinked a few times in quick succession to avoid their eyes. When he reached the Whaler closest to him, they were still trying to locate him from the rooftops around them, unaware of the presence so close by. 

Corvo cleared his throat and the Whaler flinched, dematerializing immediately. Their movements were predictable, though. Corvo followed after them, intercepting the Whaler again. This one was dressed in grey and let out a startled sound too young to belong to an adult. 

The other two materialized on the roof. One of them was similarly dressed in greys and moved with uncertainty. The one in blue was more fluid in their movements, though, and moved to stand between Corvo and the one in grey. 

So Daud had decided to send two rookies to look after him. How flattering. Corvo forced his breathing to come out calmer. He supposed the assassin could at least trust Corvo not to kill them. 

It hardly made it any better. Corvo had no plans on being a training program to a group of teenage assassins. 

The one in blue lifted their hands as if to appease him. 

Corvo growled in frustration and the two in grey drew their swords. The one in blue remained steadfast. 

“Stay out of my way,” Corvo said. 

The Whaler in blue didn’t respond. Corvo grit his teeth. He supposed he was going to have to be a little wordier than that to get his message across. 

”I needed… one of them conscious.”

The grey Whalers gave each other a quick look and one of them put down their sword and rubbed their neck through the hood. 

The one in blue simply stood there. 

”Tell Daud to stop sending you after me.”

The on in blue tilted their head, then spoke up. His voice was muffled by the mask. 

”It won’t help,” he said. 

Corvo sighed and ran a hand down his mask. Of course it wouldn’t. He should’ve known it wouldn’t, since he’d been trying to get rid of his stalkers for a while now. Daud thought he owed Corvo something. And apparently the man was stubborn. 

”You want to help?” he said. 

The Whaler didn’t move, but the two behind him shared a look. 

Of course they didn’t. They weren’t here on their own free will. This was an assignment. Corvo ran a tongue over his teeth. 

”Fine,” he said, pushing his hand into his coat. The two novices pulled back, but the one in blue stood at attention, with his hands behind his back. Corvo pulled out the letter. ”Find me the locations of the other two zealot hideouts and you can tell Daud his debt’s been paid back. And after that you can _stop following me around and fouling up my work._ ”

The Whaler studied him for a moment, before reaching out his hand. Corvo offered the letter to him and he snatched it off, offering it to the novices behind him without looking at it. 

”Get this to Daud,” he said. One of the grey-clad Whalers stepped closer, took it and disappeared. The other remained, trying to mimic their superior’s straight-backed stance with less success. Uncertainty was still bleeding through. 

Corvo’s mood continued its downward spiral. So that wasn’t enough to get them to leave him alone, then. Because of course it wasn’t. At least when it’d been Daud on his trail, he’d been allowed to go about his business without interruptions. 

He didn’t feel completely comfortable giving the man even this underhanded compliment. 

He just wanted his calm and quiet nights back. 

Maybe this job would do the trick.

*

A Whaler in a blue coat dropped off at his office the next night. Corvo had been working on an exchange with one of the High Judges of Tyvia, when the man had appeared, knocking on his window as if it was a normal thing to do. Corvo had had to fight his gut reaction of pulling out a sword. It brought him no good memories to see one of the assassins back at Dunwall Tower.

This one was taller than the one from the night before. Wirier, too, and a little hunched. Corvo didn’t ask for his name and he didn’t give it freely either. 

”We have located the remaining zealot hideouts, Lord Protector,” he said, standing at attention with his hands behind his back like he was reporting to a superior. 

Corvo was so tired. He probably should’ve been more worried about the fact that even after he’d tried to make the Tower more difficult to reach from the outside, a Whaler had still managed to sneak in without rousing suspicion. The guards he’d been training to keep watch for possible supernatural enemies were as good as nothing. 

It was a double-edged sword. It made it easier for Corvo to sneak out when he pleased. 

It also, apparently, allowed trained assassins to sneak in just as easy. 

The Whaler offered him paperwork. They’d done quick work of it, Corvo had to admit. That was the difference between one man squeezing a few hours of work every couple of nights compared to an entire group of trained assassins working tirelessly.

He tried not to feel as bitter about it as he did. The Whalers were good at what they did. That had been established already. Much as it pained him to admit it, their powers weren’t the only reason why they were so infamous. 

In just one day they’d managed to gather intel on the remaining two hideouts, the locations, the members and the weaponry they carried. 

It was good. Now he could take them down quietly and without a fuss. Slackjaw had already promised help vanishing the Overseers out of the city once Corvo was done, and all he needed to do was deal with the ten or so Abbeymen that were left. He could leave tonight, deal with one of the hideouts, and target the other one three nights later, when he’d have his evening free. This whole debacle would be over and done with in a week. 

He’d kind of expected the Whaler to leave while he was busy with the paperwork. Turning around, though, the Whaler was still there, standing like a soldier waiting for orders. Corvo gave him a fleeting glance. 

He was pretty sure the Whaler was looking back. 

He’d only have time to deal with one of the hideouts tonight. He shouldn’t overexert himself. The problem with that was that whichever hideout he’d attack tonight, the other one would have time to prepare. And it was always riskier to attack a target that was expecting you. He’d better deal with the better equipped hideout tonight and leave the weaker one waiting. 

He’d dealt with worse odds before. 

From the corner of his eye, Corvo saw the Whaler. Still standing where he’d left him. 

What did he want?

Payment?

Had he been ordered to play bodyguard now?

Outsider’s eyes, Corvo hoped no one would enter his office now. 

He placed the papers on his desk and sat down. Then he cleared his throat and straightened the stack. 

The Whaler didn’t move. 

Corvo closed his eyes and pressed his hands together, slowly counting down from ten. 

It didn’t really help. 

“Did you need something?” he asked at a length, using the tone he normally saved only for the most frustrating nobles. 

The Whaler stepped closer and pulled out a folded map. He pushed aside the papers on Corvo’s desk and all Corvo could really do was watch with disbelief at the audacity as he opened the map in front of him. 

“I was told to brief you on the raid, Lord Protector,” he said. “As we speak – “

“Excuse me?”

“ – two teams are approaching the hideouts. Thomas is leading an attack on the one near Slaughterhouse Row and Rapha’s team is taking the Roseburrow Street one.”

“ _Excuse me?_ ”

“The hideout at Roseburrow is surrounded by taller buildings and Rapha’s team will approach from high ground,” the Whaler continued, wholly disinterested in Corvo’s objections. He pointed a finger at the map. “The one at Slaughterhouse Row is a bit more open, built closer to the canal, with open streets around it. However, the building they use is smaller and they have less Overseers posted there.”

Corvo pinched the bridge of his nose while the Whaler continued prattling on about their tactics. 

Okay. So. He hadn’t expected the Whalers to take things this far. He’d asked for the locations. _Only_ the locations. Instead he was being given a whole operation. He hadn’t expected this, he had to admit. But considering the slowly nagging madness Daud had forced upon him the last couple of months, maybe he should’ve. 

He shouldn’t let this slide. He _couldn’t_ just let them do as they pleased. They were Void damned assassins and Corvo felt like he’d just hired them to do him a job. 

Well. In a way, he kind of had. He’d said that Daud’s debts would be paid. And apparently the man didn’t do anything by halves. 

Corvo stood up, pushing his chair pack so hard it screeched against the floor. The Whaler’s speech was cut short and Corvo could see his hand making an aborted move towards the blade at his side. Corvo gave a pointed look at the hand and it slowly returned back to the Whaler’s side. 

”The Whalers aren’t welcome in Dunwall Tower,” he said.

The Whaler was quiet for a moment. “We are aware, sir,” he said. “Daud had ordered is to keep our distance. This is a special occasion.”

That was a little surprising. Corvo lifted a brow. So Daud had told his Whalers to stay away from Dunwall Tower. He supposed that explained why, despite nearly breathing down his neck during the nights, the Whalers always disappeared somewhere around the gates. 

Corvo wasn’t sure what to feel about this either. 

“…Fine,” he said. “We’re going to the Roseburrow hideout. And after that, Slaughterhouse Row.”

The Whaler didn’t look especially surprised. Not that it would’ve been easy to tell either or. 

Corvo gave him an appraising look. “I take it I won’t be getting rid of you easily?”

The Whaler gave some sort of a salute, making a fist and pressing it against his chest. “No, sir,” he said. 

Figures.

*

The Roseburrow hideout had been the bigger of the two. The area had been hit pretty hard by the plague. Not as bad as some other parts, but bad enough to leave it mostly abandoned for a long time. By the time Corvo and his nameless guardian arrived, the Whalers had already cleared it out.

”Lord Protector,” the one called Rapha said, saluting him like the one from his office had done. ”The hideout has been cleared. We’ll take care of the Overseers for you, sir.”

Corvo didn’t like this. He didn’t like the way the other Whalers were looking at him. He didn’t like the way Rapha was acting as if reporting to a superior. He didn’t like it one bit how the Whaler from his office was standing behind him like he’d been given a great honor to be allowed to bother Corvo. The other Whalers were sending looks his way that worryingly looked like envy and Corvo was really hoping he was reading the signs wrong. 

He didn’t know what he was supposed to say to the man in front of him. Rapha. He was clearly waiting for something, hands behind his back and head held high. The Overseers had been propped up against the wall, with their hands tied behind their backs, their music boxes smashed to bits. 

A not so insignificant part of him wanted to ask, if Rapha had been there on that day. If he’d been there to make sure that Daud could push his blade through Jessamine’s chest. 

He wanted to ask, but at the same time, he wouldn’t have known what to do with the information if he had it. . 

Corvo knew he wouldn’t kill them. He was no stranger to killing. He’d done it before. To protect Jessamine. To protect the old Emperor before her and to protect Emily now. He’d killed to protect himself and he’d killed when wearing the mask. And he ‘d do it again. He wasn’t proud of it, but it was the truth and he had to acknowledge it. 

He also knew, that the Whaler were far from innocent. Jessamine’s life wasn’t the only one they’d taken. Not all of the people they’d offed were people Corvo was going to miss, admittedly, but the Whalers weren’t known for being picky with their contracts. Coin was the only thing they cared about. Flimsy things like morality came last in a long list of things more important. 

But he wasn’t going to kill any of them. Not unless they forced his hand.

Rapha was still standing there, waiting for something. But Corvo had nothing to say to him. When he blinked away, the Whaler from his office followed after him. Silent, but not silent enough. 

The businesses in Slaughterhouse Row had gone through some trouble before the plague, or so Corvo had heard. Most of it had been during his time in Coldridge, so he’d had more important things to worry about back then. But apparently there’d been some scuffles between the workers and the slaughterhouse owners and one of the biggest bosses, Rothwild, had skipped town when things had gotten too heated. Lucky guy missed the worst of the plague. Things were getting back to normal now, though. 

It was risky for the zealots to pick a hideout here. But it _was_ closer to the working people, Corvo supposed. 

The Whaler took point, showing the way towards the hideout. The building itself had been an old butcher house. One of the ones on the smaller side. The thing about this one, though, was that there weren’t any bigger buildings to approach it from close by. They were forced to get closer to ground level, approaching the building instead on parked rail carts and wooden containers. The smell of rotting flesh was strong here, and rats stopped to stare at them as they passed. 

The first sign that something was wrong was when the loud groaning of the music box reached Corvo’s ears. It was too close, too clear. Corvo could feel it already draining him by the first note. The Whaler froze, turning around. 

It was already too late, though. 

The second wave of the music hit him like a hammer to the head. The screeching drone nearly knocked Corvo off his feet then and there. The Whaler next to him dropped like a rock, stumbling over the side of the cart and falling to the ground with a thud.

The Overseers came rounding the corner like hounds smelling blood. There were no signs of the other Whalers, but the blood on the Overseers’ clothing looked fresh. Up from the cart, Corvo gritted his teeth. This takedown hadn’t gone quite as well, it seemed. 

There were three Overseers in total and they immediately surrounded the fallen Whaler. One of them drew a gun and Corvo acted on instinct. Even as the sound of the music box made his eyes water and head ache, he jumped down, landing on top of the Overseer and knocking his head against the ground. 

The remaining two Overseers barked out in surprise. Corvo aimed a kick at the one holding the music box, but it wasn’t enough to stop the grating melody. So instead, he grabbed hold of the fallen Whaler and pulled him back, throwing him to put a dumpster between them and the Overseers. 

Void damn it. The Whaler groaned next to him. The music had hit him worse than Corvo and he wouldn’t be getting up as long as the music played. Slouched down against the dirty dumpster like a spineless fish, he didn’t look like he was going to stay conscious for long either. 

Not that Corvo was feeling much better. The Overseers were barking orders to surround them and he could taste blood. Something warm and wet was dribbling from his nose and everything smelled like copper. 

“We’re not taking these ones alive!”

Gritting teeth, Corvo steadied his crossbow and rolled out from behind the dumpster. 

It was just two Overseers. Probably more somewhere close by. He’d dealt with worse odds. With the Mark useless to him, he was much slower now, though. But the fact alone that he was still able to run at all seemed to surprise the Overseers. A bullet hit the ground where he’d stood a moment earlier, ricocheting from the stone. Corvo didn’t stop, when his eyes filled with tears that shrouded his view. He didn’t stop when it felt like he couldn’t breathe properly. He couldn’t stop, because stopping meant dying. He ran towards the Overseers, who drew back in surprise, then ducked and weaved past a blurry sword swing.

Passing the Overseers, he made a run for the butcher’s shop itself. He spotted two hazy figures on the ground. Whalers dressed in grey. Two more Overseers came out from the shop, but the moment Corvo had a corner between him and the music box, he was able to blink. 

The four Overseers met in front of the butcher’s shop, yelling at him, yelling at each other and yelling at the Outsider. Up above them, on the roof, Corvo lifted his mask just enough to wipe tears from his eyes and his gloves came back bloody. 

From the roof, he could see what had happened. Expecting an easy target, the Whalers had approached the same way Corvo and the Whaler had. The Overseers had been ready, though, with three music boxes. Two of them Corvo could now see in pieces on the ground. 

“Get the assassin!” one of the Overseers shouted. 

Corvo squeezed his eyes shut and cursed under his breath. As one of the Overseers made to move back towards where Corvo had left the Whalers, he forced himself back to his feet. He might not have had his strength, or Mark, but he did have three cans of Baffle Dust and a fistful of darts. 

From this far, he wasn’t going to be reaching any of them with the dust. 

The first dart hit the wall behind the Overseers’ backs with a ting. The second one found its mark on the shoulder of one of the zealots. Corvo rolled and dropped down from the roof, then ran until he was out of the reach from the music box and blinked again. 

The Overseer flailed and tried to pick off the dart from his shoulder as his body’s functions were leaving him. His distressed yelps were enough of a distraction for Corvo to get close enough to throw a can of dust at the Overseers. 

It hit the one carrying the music box and the one next to him, covering them in dust, but the fourth one was able to jump aside just in time to avoid being hit. He drew his pistol and shot blindly at Corvo’s direction. 

Blind luck. It must’ve been. It hit Corvo’s left arm, making him drop the second can at his feet. He threw the third one, the final one, but the bullet wound left his throw short. 

The third dart hit the Overseer, sending him tumbling. The fourth found the other Overseer hit by the dust just in time as it dissipated. 

Corvo dove out of the way before the music hit him again. The Overseer with the music box had recovered and Corvo cursed his shortsightedness in not knocking him out first. 

The last remaining Overseer was panicking now. He had nothing but his music box, but with the unending groan of the machine, Corvo couldn’t move from behind the butcher’s shops counter he’d rolled to hide behind. They were at an impasse. The Overseer didn’t dare to approach in fear of what would happen if he got within an arm’s reach of Corvo and Corvo couldn’t get closer unless he wanted to get blasted by the music head-on. 

Corvo’s nose was bleeding again and his ears were ringing. He licked his lips and looked around. The place was a mess. A Whaler in grey was lying over the counter, like they’d been shot just as they’d been trying to vault over. They were still breathing, Corvo noted. Barely. There was a lot of blood, but the Whaler still lived. 

And strapped to their side, was a can of Baffle Dust. 

Corvo was grinning like a madman when he grabbed it. Weighing it down in his right hand, he considered his chances. 

Better than nothing, he supposed. 

The can flew in a wide arc over the counter and the moment the music stopped, Corvo was moving. 

An arm around the Overseer’s throat was a quick way to put an end to this. 

Afterwards, Corvo fell to sit on the dirty ground, breathing heavy in the ringing quiet of the butcher’s shop. A moment later, the Whaler from his office stumbled to the yard. Not long after that, Daud and his reinforcements arrived.

*

Two out of the three novice Whalers would live to tell the tale. Corvo watched them getting patched up enough to be taken off to wherever it was that the Whalers were hiding off these days.

One of the Whalers had offered to help Corvo with his wound. Corvo hadn’t seen a good reason to deny the help. 

They carried off the Overseers. Corvo didn’t know where they were going to be taken to and he couldn’t really say he cared to know at the moment. He was sure it’d come back to haunt him later. Maybe even that night, once he’d get back to the Tower and try to sleep off the disaster of a day. 

He had one Whaler at his side the entire time the assassins hustled and bustled around the butcher’s shop. Corvo was pretty sure it wasn’t the same one from before, but he couldn’t tell anymore. He’d been chugging Remedies since the fight had been over and he still wasn’t feeling up to his normal level. It was making it harder to think. Everything was still a little blurry and after all the excitement, the ache from the bullet wound was getting worse. 

He really should’ve just left. Go back to the Tower and pretend like this had never happened. 

Instead he found himself staring at Daud. 

The man was difficult to pin down, he had to admit. 

Maybe he _was_ feeling sorry for what he’d done. Maybe he _was_ looking to atone for his crimes.

Corvo could see that. 

And the way he was watching the novices being carried out made it clear, that he _did_ have a heart somewhere in there. A shriveled up one. One that cared for a selected few people. 

It didn’t really fix anything. Or make things better. 

It was just a little startling to realize. 

Corvo would’ve much rather seen Daud was just the Knife of Dunwall. A monster through and through. 

He didn’t like the nuance. 

Daud lifted his head and looked at him. Corvo would’ve rather that he hadn’t, but their eyes had met and there was no escaping it now. Daud moved as if to walk up to him, then stopped and seemed to rethink things over. 

Corvo breathed in a sigh, held it, and decided to be the better man. 

“Giving me the locations would’ve been enough,” he spoke over the yard. 

Whalers around them stopped, sending looks between them.

Daud hesitated. He wasn’t looking at Corvo, but it was clear he’d heard what he’d said. After a moment, he offered a simple: “I know,” as a response. 

He offered no explanation. The other Whalers were following carefully. They tried to hide it by turning their heads away and pretending to be busy, but Corvo could feel their eyes like needles on his skin. He dropped his head into his hands, breathed in and out a few times, then got up. His legs still felt a little wobbly. 

“Well,” he said. “Come on, then. I want to get back to the Tower and sleep for – “, he looked towards the canal, seeing the thin band of light already shining over the horizon, “ – a few hours at least.”

Daud looked around as if there was anyone else there Corvo could’ve been talking to. He didn’t wait to see the man make the decision, but blinked away and started making his way back towards the Tower. He could feel the Whalers’ quiet stares on his back as he left. 

It didn’t take long for Daud to follow after him. Corvo grimaced. He was way too tired to keep up the pace he usually did on his way back home. Daud seemed to take that as an invitation to walk closer. Not side by side, oh no. But well within eyesight. 

Corvo supposed this was his life now. 

At least after tonight, it would be over. He could go to bed and rest easy in knowing that Daud would no longer feel the need to follow him around like a grim bodyguard. 

He sighed and looked over his shoulder towards Daud. The man was looking right back. Considering things over for a moment longer, Corvo nodded his head, inviting him to walk closer. 

Again, Daud hesitated, but not for long. 

It felt strange to walk side by side with Jessamine’s killer. It wasn’t right. 

But these were strange times. 

The travel was quiet and awkward. At one point they hitched a ride on a railcar and Corvo sat down on its edge to rest a little. The night air was cool and this high up, the stench of the city wasn’t quite as pungent. The shine of the sun was now reaching over the roofs of the buildings and earliest risers were already off to work. 

Daud remained standing, arms crossed in defiance against the wind. 

“Don’t ever again send a Whaler to the Tower,” Corvo said, but he didn’t have the strength to fill the words with as much poison as he’d hoped. 

Daud was quiet for a beat. 

“Can’t make promises,” he said at length. 

Of course he couldn’t. Corvo twisted his mouth behind his mask, but he wasn’t looking for an argument. 

He just wanted this night to be over. 

“They appreciate strength, you know,” Daud said. 

Corvo looked up at him. He hadn’t quite expected Daud to say anything and looking at him now, neither had he. He pursed his lips, looking off to somewhere else. He looked to be thinking his words over and Corvo allowed him the time. 

“It’s not… the only reason,” Daud said. “But I’m their leader, because I’m stronger than them. Faster than them. More experienced. They all know the deal. Once one of them gets strong and smart enough to take me out, the others would follow them.” He drew in a sigh. “That was the plan. It didn’t… quite work out.” For a moment he just glowered at the horizon and Corvo expected that to be the end of it. But then he shifted a little and opened his mouth again. “And then in comes you. After the worst six months in my life. Sneaking past my Whalers, knocking them out without any of them getting a chance to see your shadow. Beating _me_.” He shook his head, as if the idea was still hard to believe. “They’re confused.” He was quiet for a beat longer, twisting his mouth, fingers curling around his arm. “They don’t know what to do with you. They admire you, but they don’t know how to show it.”

Somehow, Corvo didn’t think this was just about the Whalers anymore. 

He turned to look back at the scenery. 

“It’s fine,” he said. “I can understand that. But I can’t forgive.”

Behind him, Daud was quiet. 

“You don’t owe me anything,” Corvo said. “You don’t have to pay me back for any of it. Jessamine is dead. Nothing is going to fix that.”

Daud’s voice was quiet, when he said: “I know.”

The rest of the ride back to the Tower was quiet. Neither of them had anything more to say to the other. And when Corvo finally got back to his room and collapsed to his bed, mask dropped haphazardly on a pile of clothes next to it, his lights were out faster than he could breathe a sigh of relief. 

At least from now on, he would no longer have to deal with the Whaler troubles.

*

Except that the next time he left the tower, Daud was there again.

Corvo swore, one of these days, he was going to throw a whale oil canister at him. 

He doubted it’d stop the man either.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I… was sure I was done with this fic already. But I guess I wasn’t? I guess this is either going to be the kind of a fic, where I just end up adding to it more and more over time, when an idea strikes. Or then this really will be the last chapter. At this point, I don’t even know anymore. So, uh. Here.

Corvo wouldn’t have wanted to say that Burrows’ old spies were all worthless, but they were so close to it that it didn’t really make a difference. 

Maybe it was just their loyalty for the former Spymaster. For some reason Corvo couldn’t comprehend, quite a lot of them were highly fond of the man and considered Corvo taking over his position an insult to their traitorous former boss. Maybe Burrows had only hired spies based on their ability to stroke his ego and nothing more. Whatever the reason, they’d really dropped the ball this time. 

Someone should’ve been on top of this. Corvo was already stretched out thin as it was, running both the spies and Emily’s guard. The meeting had been set up months in advance and Corvo had trusted the spies to make sure no one had any ideas to approach the Empress while she dined with the nobles. 

Really, there was _one thing_ he had wanted the spies to do and that was to make it easier for Corvo to protect the Empress. It wasn’t that big of a thing to ask, was it?

With the new taxation slowly turning from a momentary emergency solution to something that the Empire was considering keeping in the future as well, the nobles were getting nervous. A lot of the older families were now for the first time in generations faced with the idea that they’d have to actually consider carefully how they used their money. They were far from losing their fortunes, but the thing Corvo had learned while working with people of power and wealth was that those people rarely parted with them willingly. 

Which meant that the Empire had made enemies. 

Corvo had known that. The _spies_ had told him as much. Not that he would’ve needed _them_ to tell him that. Everyone could see how restless the nobles were getting. What the spies had failed to tell him was that some of the nobles had thought that what was going to fix the situation was taking a page out of the old Lord Regent’s book and try to assassinate an empress. 

As if the new taxes had been Emily’s idea. Her advisors had been there through the whole process and in the end, Emily’s contribution had been to sign her name in the papers while the adults dealt with the more complicated matters. 

Some of the nobles seemed to have trouble understanding that. 

Or maybe they just wanted to take down the symbol. 

The spies had failed to bring that information to him. 

Which meant they were as good as useless to him. 

Corvo himself only got to learn about the plan when he found a bullet in his gut. 

A handful of noble families had arranged a luncheon with the Empress. It was something they’d done back when Jessamine had still been alive too. It was a chance for the lords and ladies of Gristol to get in good with the Empress, while talking about lighter topics mixed with politics. 

With the way things had been lately, there’d been no time for such frivolities. It had been Lord Beaumont’s idea, Corvo heard, to try to bring the custom back and he’d set up a meeting with the more influential families of Dunwall. 

Corvo had nothing against that. Especially after he’d found out that many of the families’ younger members had been invited as well. No doubt to make sure that the new blood would get along with the Empress and to have her consider them friends so the families could continue keeping good relations with the Empire. It didn’t really matter to Corvo. He would gladly see Emily play with kids her age while her advisors conversed with the nobles about current politics. 

They left Dunwall Tower in a rail car, with soldiers riding in cars ahead and after them. It was nothing too grand, but it was still enough to make a statement. People stopped to wave at them. Emily glued her face to the window, squealing with delight and earning exasperated looks form her advisors. 

It’d been a while since she’d been this ecstatic. 

Corvo hid a smile. 

His joy at seeing her so happy dulled down considerably, when he spotted the first Whaler. 

They’d been following them since they’d crossed the river. Corvo bit back a sigh, leaning his head against his hand as he side-eyed the figure blinking from rooftop to rooftop. It was clear that they were following the cars.

What Corvo hadn’t yet figured out was why. They only followed Corvo around, when he was wearing the mask. This was the first time they’d shown up when he wasn’t the Masked Felon. 

Other than, of course, the time they’d entered the Tower and…

Well. 

He supposed this could’ve been another job for them. 

He hoped not. 

Well, he knew for a fact Daud wouldn’t have his assassins lay a finger on Emily, so he supposed if they were hunting down someone else, Corvo would just have to feign surprise. 

What a nightmare. It just showed how useless the guards were against supernatural threats. None of them had yet noticed the Whaler. 

One of these days, the pressure was going to be the death of him. 

The meeting itself went as well as these things tended to go. Emily curtsied and spoke with the sophistication fit for an empress. 

Jessamine would’ve been proud to see it. 

Her advisors did most of the talking, but Emily kept following the conversation attentively, showing that she was going to be taking part in the politics when she grew older and not just allow her advisors run the whole government. Afterwards she and the younger kids retreated to the gardens, while the adults discussed in the parlor. Corvo kept a close eye on the kids while they played. 

He also kept an eye on the Whalers. He wasn’t sure exactly how many there were, but there were more than one, of that he was sure. They seemed content just watching him and Emily, which had Corvo worrying even more. Were the situation different, he might’ve slipped out and tracked one of them down to demand some answers. But right now, the last thing he’d do was leave Emily by herself. The Whalers were here for a reason. 

So Corvo stayed. 

Servants brought the kids pies, cookies and candied apples. Everyone gathered around a small table, fighting over the best cookies with severity Corvo had only ever seen in sugar-craved children. Even Emily forgot all about her table manners when neither her advisors nor Callista were there to lecture her. Corvo had to break a fistfight she’d started with one of the boys over a piece of pie.

Apparently, diplomacy was off the table, when it came to sweets. 

Sometimes she reminded Corvo so much of her mother. 

He first realized something was wrong when he spotted red in the corner of his eye. Corvo lifted his eyes up and saw Daud perched on top of the mansion. He had his blade out and Corvo’s hand flew to his own at his side. 

That was when he saw one of the servants draw out a pistol. 

Corvo had just enough time to blink. He didn’t think. He was moving on instinct and he was glad they were sharp enough to serve him. The aim of those instincts could’ve been a little better, though, because instead of jumping at the attacker, all he could think was: _never again._

He blinked, out in the direct daylight, to stand between Emily and the bullet meant for her. 

And he was glad he did. Because instead of reaching Emily, the bullet hit his gut. 

Emily’s scream was ear-piercing, and Corvo was relieved he’d made it in time. The other kids scattered, screaming and crying and Corvo stumbled on his feet, struggling to stay upright. He had his own pistol in hand, but he didn’t have time to fire it once, before the Whalers had swarmed the yard. 

The assailant got out one yelp of surprise before Daud had cut his throat. 

So much for being done with killing. 

Three Whalers in total, Corvo counted. He stumbled towards the table, leaning heavy against it, with his hand on the wound. 

This was beyond embarrassing. Outplayed by the Whalers. _Again._

At this point, maybe he ought to just retire. Since these assassins could play around him so easily. 

His left knee gave out under him and he nearly fell. 

” _Corvo!_ ” Emily shouted, grabbing onto his coat and holding tight. 

He gritted his teeth together. This was no time to show weakness. He turned to Emily and offered her a shaky smile. 

Emily’s face was pale and tears were rolling down from her wide and terrified eyes. 

A loud thud drew their attention. Daud had let go of the corpse and it’d fallen to his feet. Emily yelped next to Corvo, pulling behind him while still holding on tight. 

”Pretty sloppy, even for you, Lord Protector,” Daud said. 

Corvo bared his teeth, but all he got out was a pained hiss. 

Daud’s eyes flew to the spreading bloodstain on his shirt and his eyes grew wider. He gave a sharp signal to one of the Whalers, who moved to approach him. 

” _No!_ ” Emily cried out, hugging both arms around Corvo. 

The Whaler stopped and gave a look at Daud. Something wordless went between them and Daud clicked his tongue. He stepped over the corpse of the assailant.

”Keep the guards busy,” he said and the two Whalers disappeared. 

They better not kill any of them. Corvo didn’t think very highly of the guards’ abilities to keep supernaturally gifted assassins away, but they still served their purpose and didn’t deserve to meet their ends at the hands of the Whalers. He steadied his breathing. He needed to get medical attention and soon. 

Daud studied him through narrowed eyes. He started approaching him. Corvo gave a dry look at the man he’d just killed. Daud followed the look and shrugged. 

”If you’re worrying he died with information that might’ve been useful to you, then don’t. We know who hired him.”

Great. So they were here to take out the competition, was that it? If they’d known there was going to be an attempt on the Empress’ life, why hadn’t they intervened sooner? Corvo bared his teeth and glared at his hand on the wound. 

”I wanted to see what you’d do.” Daud’s eyes narrowed. ”Didn’t think you’d be dumb enough to get shot.”

Well. That was fair, he supposed. 

Corvo wasn’t sure what Daud was planning to do, when he approached him. Most likely he was just going to help him tie up the wound so he wouldn’t bleed out while waiting for a doctor. It didn’t really matter what he’d had in mind, though, because Emily moved to stand between Corvo and Daud. With her back to Corvo, she held onto him with both hands, shaking terribly and glaring at Daud. 

”No!” she said. ”Go away!”

Daud opened his mouth, then closed it. He frowned and reached his hand as if to move her aside, but froze, when Emily squeezed her eyes shut and screamed. 

Corvo saw how Daud’s eyes grew wider and his hand dropped to his side. Then his look soured and he clicked his tongue, moving forward and grabbing onto Emily’s shoulder. 

”Out of the way, kid,” he said. 

”Hey!” Corvo growled. 

”No!” Emily’s hold around him grew tighter. 

Daud moved to wrench her off, but Corvo grabbed onto his arm. 

”Cut it out,” he said. 

Daud curled his lip to reveal teeth. 

”You need medical attention, Lord Protector,” he spat out. 

”You’re scaring her.”

Daud gritted his teeth. 

”I’m aware.”

”Let go.”

Daud glared at him for a moment longer before wrenching his hand free. Emily was now sobbing loudly and Corvo reached to hug her to his side. 

He was starting to feel light headed. 

Daud had a reserved look in his eyes when he turned. He refused to look at Emily and uncertainty radiated from him in waves. 

”Master Daud.”

Emily hiccupped at Corvo’s side, when one of the Whalers returned. 

Corvo’s breathing sounded loud in his ears. 

”What is it?”

”I called for a doctor for the Lord Protector. She should be in here in fifteen minutes.”

Corvo heard their voices like through the surface of water. He leaned against the table with his full weight now, blood trickling past his fingers. 

”Good. Take the Lord Protector to – ”

He didn’t hear the rest of the sentence before hitting the ground. Emily’s screaming drowned out everything else.

*

Out of all the disgraces, this was the worst one, surely.

The Lord Protector, the bodyguard of the Empress. 

Saved by the assassins, who’d killed the previous one. 

And he’d almost lost Emily, too. 

Had he not acted when he had, the bullet would’ve surely gotten her.

He’d known he was being pulled too thin between all the tasks he had. He was in charge of the spies without really any qualifications to do so. He needed to keep an eye on the guards and train them constantly to be prepared for any and all attacks against the Empress. And he was the personal bodyguard to Emily. He knew he couldn’t stretch himself much further and already he was starting to see the results of his failure. 

Maybe if the times had been more peaceful, he could’ve pulled it off. But with the resources he had right now and the state Dunwall was in, it was only a matter of time before someone would try something like this again. 

And the next time he might not be as fast to get between Emily and the bullet. 

Or, someone other than a traumatized child might see him use the Mark and tell the Overseers. 

But what else was he supposed to do?

The doctors patched him up to the best of their abilities. In the end, the wound wasn’t that bad. It could’ve been a whole lot worse, but going through his reinforced jacket had lessened the blow considerably and the bullet hadn’t gotten too deep. 

He’d still be bedridden for a week at least, if the doctors had their way. The Royal Physician might not have cared whether he ended up reopening the wound or not, but the other doctors were quite adamant in their verdict. The Elixir would speed up the healing process and numb the pain, but there was only so much it could do. 

So, stuck he was. 

Not that he had time to be. He needed to get to the bottom of the attempted assassination. 

Granted, the attempt had been pretty weak. A bad shot, dressed as a servant. Not a very professional attempt at a hit. But the professionalism of it hardly mattered. Someone had still wanted Emily dead and he needed to find out who. 

But he couldn’t trust Burrows’ spies to do their job. 

Corvo hated this. So much. 

The door to his chambers opened and he turned his head. Emily scooted in and closed the door carefully behind her. She didn’t look up when she made her way across the room to his bedside, eyes sweeping the floor instead. 

The mattress dipped down under her. She curled to his side, back towards him, head on his shoulder and hands tight around his arm. She said nothing as she buried her face against his shoulder, but the tight hold she had on the fabric of Corvo’s shirt spoke loud and clear. 

He reached his hand to run it over her head. Slowly Emily relaxed against him and her hold grew looser. 

For a moment, neither of them said anything. The amounts of Elixir Corvo had been forced to down had left him feeling loopy and tired. At least the pain was nothing but a dull throb now. 

Maybe he could get some work done tomorrow. Paper work, if nothing more. He’d need to get someone on the assassination case. One of the spies _had_ to be good enough to be trusted. And if not, he’d talk to Captain Curnow about his men. Assigning the case away wasn’t something he wanted to do, but at the moment, he had no choice in the matter. 

Corvo had heard the nobles talk. They were sure the culprits had been the Whalers. They’d said that they were there to finish the job and kill the Empress. It was pure nonsense, of course. Even if it had been the Whalers, the assassins were only the blade. Someone would have needed to pay to have that blade used. Corvo would have to find the people with the money. 

Too bad _someone_ had decided to _kill_ the man wielding the pistol. Which was just great, by the way. 

Daud _had_ said he knew who’d hired the man. 

Curse the Void, he was going to have to ask, wasn’t he?

By the time the doctors would decide he was healthy enough to leave the bed, any other leads would’ve gone long cold already. 

“That man helped tie your wound.”

Corvo grunted in question and stopped running his fingers through her hair. Emily still wasn’t facing him. She was a little ball of nerves, coiled tight at his side. 

He had only hazy recollections of what had happened after he’d hit the ground. He’d been a little out of it by the time the doctor had reached him. By then, the Whalers had been gone for a while. 

”Why did he help us?” she asked. 

Corvo sighed. He rubbed the bandages on his stomach. 

”Regret,” he said. 

Emily just coiled tighter. 

”I hate him.”

Corvo hummed. 

Emily trembled against his side. Her fingers squeezed tight around the fabric of his sleeve. Then, she turned around and threw her arm around him, hugging him tight. She buried her head to his chest and Corvo could feel her tears soaking through his shirt. 

”I’m glad you’re okay,” she whispered. 

He breathed out a long sigh and smiled. It wasn’t a big smile. Oh, no. He was tired and anemic and all but tied to his bed for the foreseeable future. But he was glad to see she was okay as well. He reached to plant a small kiss on top of her head. 

As long as he still breathed, he wouldn’t let anyone hurt her. She might not want to hear it, but Corvo would take much more than a single bullet to make sure that she’d grow up to be a marvelous empress. This was nothing. 

After a while, she fell asleep, snoring softly and drooling on his shirt. He petted her hair until he felt his own sleep taking over.

*

The first time he got to leave the Tower was five days after getting shot.

Part of it was the fact that Emily had turned the entire Tower against him. The doctors had recommended he try to take small walks every day while he healed, but that he shouldn’t overexert himself. So Emily had in her power commanded that he wasn’t allowed to leave his rooms and the only time he’d be permitted to even approach the stairs was when he’d eat dinner with her. And even then, he was constantly being flanked by his assistants, who just couldn’t for the life of them keep their worried looks at bay as Corvo cringed his way down to the ground floor. 

It was humiliating and Corvo hated it. The guards were grinning with joy at his misery when they got to tell him to go back to his room. 

He wasn’t too worried about assassins reaching Emily in the Tower. He’d worked hard to make sure that everyone within the walls was trustworthy enough. But it frustrated him beyond measure not to be able to move as he pleased.

He wasn’t even allowed to sit down regularly for the fear of straining the stitches. How was he supposed to get any paperwork done, if he wasn’t allowed to sit for longer than five minutes?

On the fifth day of his confinement, he’d finally had enough. Tricking the guards outside his room wasn’t that difficult. They were as good as blind to him, when something went crashing across the hallway. That brought him enough time to slip away undetected and ten minutes later he was out of the Tower. 

Not that he was in any condition to be running across rooftops by himself. He’d just wanted some fresh air and the walled gardens of the Tower were far from enough. 

Besides, the doctors _had_ told him to get some light walking done. 

It didn’t take long at all for Daud to find him. Corvo had found himself a rooftop facing the river and was now blatantly disregarding the doctors’ orders by sitting down. He was soon learning to regret it, when the position did nothing but hurt his healing wound. 

”You’re not fit to be running around.”

Outsider’s eyes, did he not know how to greet people? Not that Corvo could say he was much better himself. He mostly just let others do the talking for him. He grunted and shifted in discomfort. When he looked behind him, Daud was giving him an unimpressed look. He’d left a good ten meters between them and was now watching Corvo up and down. 

”If you’re not going to be doing anything, you should’ve just stayed inside.”

Right. And continue rotting slowly? 

”I have a job for you,” Corvo said instead. 

Daud froze. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. Corvo watched him carefully, trying to see what his reaction was going to be like. Daud sighed, resigned, and nodded. 

”Who do you need dead?” he asked. 

Behind his mask, Corvo lifted a brow. Daud didn’t seem happy about it. Did he think he wasn’t going to get paid or something? Corvo shook his head. 

”I need to know who’s trying to kill the Empress,” he said. ”And…” He waved at his stomach. He wasn’t exactly in the shape to go hunting the culprits himself. 

Daud shifted on his feet. He tilted his head back, frowning. 

”You mean, you don’t already know?” he said and Corvo didn’t much appreciate the tone he was using. 

Corvo said nothing. Daud sighed and shook his head. 

”Your spies are worthless,” he said. ”We knew about this weeks ago.”

Corvo closed his eyes and swallowed down curses. Of course.

”And you decided not to let me know because…?” he bit out. 

Daud crossed his arms. 

”Aren’t allowed in the Tower, are we?”

Corvo gritted his teeth. So this was the kind of game he wanted to play, huh? Corvo didn’t currently feel much like talking. What he wanted to be doing was running and jumping. Blinking through the rooftops. Instead he was stuck here with Daud. 

Wonderful.

”I’ll see what I can do.”

Corvo nodded. They could talk about payment later. He was starting to get tired, but he didn’t want to return to the Tower yet. 

Despite the discomfort, Corvo was glad he’d left. Behind his mask, he closed his eyes and breathed deep, hand on the stitches. It was a quiet night in Dunwall. Those were starting to get rare, now that people were relearning to be more comfortable outside. But for tonight, at least in this part of the city, it was calm. Not a soul was out. 

”Your doctors say anything about drinking?”

He looked up at Daud. He hadn’t heard him approach. He supposed he shouldn’t have expected to. 

He was offering a bottle. 

Corvo sighed, then accepted it. He lifted the mask high enough so he could take a swig. 

Strong stuff. Bitter. It warmed him up nice and good. 

Daud sat down on the same ledge. He left at least a person’s width of distance between them and Corvo appreciated that. 

Below them, a guard was making lazy rounds, whistling as he went. Corvo watched him without much interest and soon enough he disappeared behind a corner. 

Daud looked like he had something to say. He fidgeted around, playing with the sleeves of his jacket, staring glumly over the rooftops. Corvo was in no rush to encourage him. He was sure Daud would speak up when he was ready, whether Corvo wanted to hear it or not. He took another swig, wiped his lips clean and offered the bottle back to him without a word. Daud picked it up and Corvo could hear him taking a long swill. 

”You’re not supposed to die,” Daud said. 

He couldn’t really make that decision, could he? Corvo watched him from the corner of his eye as they shared the bottle. 

Corvo wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve the assassin’s protection. Letting him live hadn’t been a decision he’d thought much in the moment. He’d had much more important things in mind back then and the consequences of letting Daud live had been very low on a list of more important matters. 

Had he known what would come of it, he might’ve reconsidered. 

…

Well. Maybe not. Not even then. 

No, he didn’t _like_ Daud. But he _had_ saved Corvo’s skin a couple of times already. 

He’d had enough of killing. It wasn’t fixing anything. And with Daud being the only person behind the assassination to actually regret what had been done, he couldn’t have possibly killed him. Even if his participation in the matter had been more direct than the others’. 

He’d let Burrows and Campbell live. So what was Daud to add to that?

The difference was, that Burrows and Campbell had had to face the consequences of their actions. 

He looked wordlessly at Daud. 

He supposed he had as well. 

Corvo sighed, slumping down, then regretted it immediately, when pain shot through him. He shifted back into a more comfortable position and accepted the bottle again. 

He didn’t really want to say it. But he needed to. 

”Thanks.” 

Daud didn’t look up at him. 

Neither of them said anything more after that.

*

The guard at his door nearly jumped out of his skin when Corvo walked up to him. He looked at Corvo, then at the door behind him, then Corvo again. His mouth opened and closed a few times and Corvo gave him a tired grin before entering his room.

He fell to his bed, fully clothed and groaning all the way down.

*

There was a man standing next to his desk. Despite the way he was dressed, he wasn’t one of the usual assistants. Corvo didn’t recognize him at all. He had a clean-shaven look, but there was a noticeable scar across his face.

Corvo’s hand flew to his sword. 

The man turned to him and lifted a fist to his heart. 

“Lord Protector,” he said. “I’ve come to give you a report.”

Corvo closed his eyes and lifted his hand to rub his forehead. 

Absolutely splendid. 

Did this mean he was going to have to start paying the Whalers from the Empire’s purse? Since apparently now he was employing them as his spies? 

Corvo couldn’t really complain, though, when he was handed the list of nobles that’d taken part in the assassination attempt.

He supposed this was his reality now.


End file.
